


This Tour Sucks

by FallOutFromGrace



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkward Crush, How Do I Tag, I know right I’m still reeling over it having actually happened, Longing, M/M, Minor Frikey because that was a real thing, Pete is just there and that’s it, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Touring, Warped Tour, he loves him so much he wants to implode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallOutFromGrace/pseuds/FallOutFromGrace
Summary: For Frank to be jealous, there had to be some…love type emotion to start with, or at least a crush, and, Frank Iero? With a crush? Please. Frank Iero doesn’t get crushes, and Frank Iero does not fall in love. Frank does what Frank does: Drink, eat, sleep and fuck. In that order. Sometimes.-ON HIATUS-
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 26
Kudos: 65





	1. Frank and The Jealousy He Swears He Doesn't Have

**Author's Note:**

> Ho boy, this one is extremely dated but it was the most fun I've had doing a rewrite in a while. Please excuse the lame jokes and the overused MCR fandom cliches, I promise you its a fun read.

Frank didn’t know what to do. He finally set aside his pride -momentarily, anyway- and admitted he was absolutely stumped.

Gerard was walking around with a very happy looking Bert draped all over him like a tacky winter scarf, and it was driving him insane. He couldn’t even ask for help or for support from his friends in this horrible, trying time. Mikey was too busy texting to pay attention to this absolute disaster, probably lost in the enigma that is Pete Wentz, and Ray and Bob had left early that morning in an apparent search for adventure. Frank still had no clue what that was supposed to mean, having stopped in the middle of who-the-fuck-cares America where he would bet his last twenty they were the most interesting thing to happen this city in the last fifteen years.

He huffed, the glass fogging up before him. Maybe his inability to think was actually coming from a worse place, he briefly thought as he spied on the two just outside the tour bus. Maybe it was more of a blind panic at the thought of this weird, greasy, sweaty Bert guy stealing Gerard from him.

He pressed his nose against the window, relieved that he knew they couldn’t see him due to the deep, black tint it wore. He had to stop that train of thought. It wasn’t like he was jealous, not at all. For Frank to be jealous, there had to be some…love type emotion to start with, or at least a crush, and, Frank Iero? With a crush? Please. Frank Iero doesn’t get crushes, and Frank Iero does not fall in love. Frank does what Frank does: Drink, eat, sleep and fuck. In that order. Sometimes.

So he definitely, absolutely, without a doubt does not experience jealousy. Bert and Gerard could hang out as much as they wanted to. Really, they could, and it wouldn’t mean Gerard was being stolen away, he was their frontman! Frank’s leading guy, the singer, the group’s dungeon master every Friday night. And besides, it wasn’t like Gerard was his property anyway, he was grown enough and could do what he wanted. Could even let Bert keep his arms around him for that long, like he’s doing right now. Could keep leaning his head back against Bert’s shoulder, like he just now did. And he cou-wait…

Frank’s face pressed harder against the glass, ignoring the screaming voice in his head reminding him that tinted glass only works so far as you keep a decent distance from it. They had just kissed, a surface kiss at best and not impressive at all, but a kiss nonetheless. And he felt like a fire had just been lit under his ass. Gerard could do whatever he wanted, he stuck by that statement and wasn’t going to take it back, but his lips? Frank called dibs. On stage. Numerous times. He could let that sweaty Bert do whatever, hug him, squeeze him, but lips? Frank’s territory. He stuck his flag on there, it's his land. And it’s just been invaded.

Frank pulled back slightly from the window only to slam his forehead against it, hard enough to make a decent thunk sound. It wasn’t that Frank wanted Gerard to kiss him offstage or anything weird like that, Frank did not have feelings like that. Ever. Frank was a bad boy, he was cold. Mysterious. Dangerous. Girls for miles have had a taste and left begging for more, only to find the empty space next to them in the morning and a longing for that mysterious guy who was SUCH a good lay. That’s the kind of shit people talk about, right? That’s what people brag about? Yeah, had to be, sounds about right. Cold and mysterious and dangerous and one night stands…right? Yeah. Sound right. Sort of.

Near the two, he spotted two guys with cameras and an overly enthusiastic chick with a lip ring fussing over them. He hummed. So the kiss was for media purposes. He abandoned the idea of secrecy, letting the glass fog up again with an annoyed huff. He guessed it didn’t mean anything, just for show and some solid fan service -Frank wasn’t alien to the concept of throwing the girls a bone or two for attention- , so by that definition, his insides shouldn’t be burning in pure fury and rage. And he also shouldn’t be on in “murder-Bert-in-his-sleep” mode, because it. Didn’t. Mean. Anything.

…Right?

No…no, you know what? No. It’s not okay. He called dibs on those pairs of lips, EVERYONE knew that, and this whole fiasco was disrespecting the dibs. He could do whatever with the rest of Gerard, but lips? No.

Wait, but what if…

“Ugh!” Frank groaned, throwing himself on the stuffy, stiff sofa he was previously kneeled on. What if they ended up SLEEPING together? Starting with a kiss and one thing leading to the other, and since Frank never called dibs on anything else, would that make it free game? Alright, scratch the whole thing. He calls dibs on the entirety that is Gerard. There. Done. That made it a lot better now.

Okay, it really didn’t, but it made Frank feel better and that’s all that mattered then.

He picked himself up from the sofa, not bothering to clean up the smudges on the window, and stomped out of the tour bus to look for something that had absolutely nothing to do with spying on Gerard. Spying was something snarky girlfriends did on their boyfriends they didn’t trust, and they were just friends. Frank didn’t even swing that way, anyway, so why was he so bothered?

Frank walked past a group of techies, who looked at him strangely as he went about his way nodding to himself rather aggressively. It was because Gerard was a friend, and he was worried about him getting involved with that Bert guy. Just good, old fashioned, friendly concern. He walked up to the vending machine next to the corner shop they, thankfully, had handy near the parking spot for the busses and slid a few pairs of coins into the slot. The can of diet soda tumbled down the old, half-broken down machine, and he could just taste the artificial sweeteners when Gerard and Bert stumbled out the bathroom door beside him, looking…a little too content for Frank’s tastes.

“Oh, hey!” Gerard squeaked, voice high pitched and pupils rather dilated, “Frankie! You…you’re, yeah, hey!”

Frank blinked, staring at Gerard like he just came out of a spaceship instead. Whoa, back it up, when did they get into the bathroom and how on earth did he miss that?

“Heeeyyy….Frank, right?” Bert slurred. They were absolutely balls to the wall high and then and there, Frank felt the ache to join in and let go because god above and mother Mary herself knew it had been ages since he’d tasted weed, but his…feelings, he supposed, kept him in check and reminded him that he definitely needed to be conscious for this. He was about to open his mouth with a sly comment, but froze in place when Gerard twisted his head ever so slightly to the side and, oh…well, this was officially a night terror because there was a hickey the size of a monument right on the spot behind his ear.

Fuck it. He admitted it, he was jealous, raging, and decided then and there that he, at the very least, swung for Gerard, if not the whole entire way. He felt the urge to ball up his fist and send it flying toward Bert’s weirdly, wonderfully sculpted nose, and suppressed the desire to follow that up by dragging Gerard back to their own bus, helping him clean and sober up, and then punching HIM for being a goddamn idiot, and continue that by hiding his newfound love for his best friend for the rest of his life to avoid an awkward moment. Because, whether he wanted to face it or not, Gerard…probably liked Bert. If that hickey was anything to go on.

Frank tucked his nail under the soda can’s metal ring, hearing it hiss as the pressure escaped when he clicked it open and took a drink. This was definitely not how he imagined his life would have been on tour. He imagined it pretty damn awesome, filled with meeting crazy people of all sorts and sizes, going hog wild drunk and partying all night, and saving up stories for when he turned too old to keep the party going. Things like that. Not having second thoughts on your sexual orientation and being like..heartbroken and stuff.

“Yeah, you know what, I can’t even…deal with this right now,” he mumbled, turning back to the tour bus with his drink clutched in a tight grip before he made his fantasies a reality. He took a huge gulp, finishing the rest of its contents in one go and ignoring the pain in his throat. Fuck the pain. Fuck the world. And for that matter, fuck Gerard for being so absolutely stupid.

He should be the one getting high in dingy, moldy bathrooms with him, not Bert. He made a mental note to screw around with their equipment when the band was onstage later, maybe make him sound like trash and make the tour a living hell. Frank would be his shadow, his cloud of bad luck looking over his shoulders every time he made a move. The one responsible for everything going wrong. Yeah, that sounded so awesome. Maybe he could live out his childhood dreams of becoming a supervillain, except instead of some comic book name like The Terror, or whatever, he’d call himself “Fuck you, Bert, the weirdo is MINE.”

Back in the bus, he spotted Ray had returned from whatever adventure he went in search for and was now slouched over the shitty couch, playing a few chords on his guitar. Frank rushed over to him, pushing the guitar to the side -gently, mind you, he didn’t want to get a concussion that day-, and grabbed Ray by the shoulders, a desperate look in his eyes.

“Gerard. Is. With. Bert,” he said, extremely slowly and enunciating each word as heavily as he could to send the message across.

“Yeah, so?” Ray asked. Obviously Ray was entirely ignorant to the dangers of Bert, the absolute monstrosity that could be their possible relationship… ugh, the word left a bad taste in his mouth despite the fact he was only thinking about it.

“Gerard could die with Bert around,” he said, still completely serious now glaring holes into Ray. Ray simply looked at him like he’d lost a few neurons or more. Alright, so Gerard wouldn’t technically die, he’d just end up a little bruised. More specifically, bruised around the neck area. And who knows where else. There were enough clothed areas to make Frank’s mind go absolutely mental at the idea of there being more…bruises…under what Gerard wore.

“Bert’s a cool guy,” Ray said, a little slowly as he fixated his eyes on Frank. He reached for his guitar again, dragging it back to where it used to be before Frank had interrupted his peace with his freak out.

“Uh, have you even seen him, he is definitely not.”

“Dude,” Ray spoke again, even slower, “It’s just Bert.”

Oh! Oh, well, it’s just Bert. Just Bert! Was that supposed to make him feel better? Really, Ray? Really?

“And your point being?”

“He’s not going to murder anyone, you’re acting as if he’s planning to re-enact Texas Chainsaw Massacre on everyone in Warped.”

Ray had a point, Frank begrudgingly admitted. Apart from the illegal substances and his public displays of affection, Bert technically did seem harmless. Mostly just so drunk he couldn’t haul his own ass into his bunk, Frank’s heard.

Frank grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re no help at all, Ray Toro!”

“I don’t get why you’re getting so upset about this, its Gerard’s business who he hangs out with. You’re acting as if you’re jealous of the attention Bert’s been getting.”

Frank pointed a finger menacingly at the guitarist, the glare returning, “I am not jealous.”

He totally was, but he wasn’t about to admit it to a guy like Ray. Being jealous was for pussies, and, as far as everyone in the band was concerned, he was the most badass macho man alive. Except for when Gerard was around, but any other time? Bad. Ass. Macho man.

Ray grinned. He looked like a little kid who’d just overheard some dirt from the grown-ups table at a family reunion. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I. Am not. Jealous. End of story.”

Ray was just being petty now, with his stupid grin and his stupid… big hair. Frank was jealous, but he wasn’t supposed to know that or point it out so obviously.

“Don’t be surprised if you wake up middle of nowhere across the border tomorrow morning,” Frank threatened, stomping his way to his bunk. He knew it made him look like a fourteen-year-old girl, but he liked stomping when he was pissed. Made him feel like his point was being cemented, and, boy, did he need to drive that point home.

His can empty, Frank now laid on his bank in his bunk and chewed absentmindedly on the little metal ring. He glanced at the clock on the wall, counting about maybe almost an hour since he’d seen them burst out of that bathroom. He frowned, realizing that Gerard hadn’t even bothered to stop by once since he saw him, not even to check up on him or at the very least explain a few of the same artistic revelations he only seemed to have whenever he got high. Hell, even Bob had finally come back to the bus, and the guy aggressively avoided being scooped up every time they made a spot, and yet there he was, making conversation with the ever elusive Mikey Way about…cats? Yeah, cats.

Frank made another frustrated sound, chewing on the metal nib a little harder to try and leave a dent. He tried his hardest to stay in place and resist the urge to press his face against the window again, and at the very least come to terms with the fact that Gerard and Bert had probably slept together already. The thought had him whine rather audibly, momentarily catching the attention of his teammates who should probably be somewhat used to his eccentric behavior by now. Frank really wanted to bitch and moan and complain and just voice every single thought right now to someone, anyone. But who would listen to a short, tattooed guy complain about his crush spending time with someone else? Because Frank was pretty sure these kinds of things were supposed to be left all the way back in High School, instead of dealing with matters like the responsible adult he was supposed to be.

He scoffed, pulling the nib out and stretching a thin trail of spit that had attached to his lips. He was grown, probably the most responsible person on the planet. In fact, his bleeding Mother Mary tattoo was the most responsible and socially acceptable thing ever.

A loud thump made him break out of his own thoughts. Gerard stumbled into the bus looking pretty miserable and Frank responded by instantly trying to scramble out of his bunk. Instead of landing gracefully on his feet, he rolled off it and fell on his ass. He coughed, annoyed that a bit of air was knocked out of his lungs, and silently cursed at himself for not choosing the easier to get to bottom bunk, and pushed himself up off the floor.

Mikey had gotten to him first, softly stroking his brother’s back and murmuring comforting words. Gerard really did look messed up then.

“I really don’t know what just happened, we were fine and he just absolutely snapped out of nowhere. He just…switched, like a light, know?” Gerard said, dejected. They all immediately correctly assumed something had gone down between Bert and him.

“I’m sorry, Gee… the guy did seem like the sort, though I guess I was just hoping I was wrong about it,“ Mikey said, “I really should have said something before. Guess it wasn’t a good idea to hang out, eh?”

Frank sneaked a small, quiet celebratory fist-pump out of Gerard’s line of sight, turning to Ray with a face that clearly read “I-Fucking-Told-You-So”. Ray responded by smacking Frank upside the head.

“You have us,” Mikey said, gracing them with one of his extremely rare smiles, “We’d never turn on you like that.” Gerard, while appreciating the sentiment, still looked rather upset and…embarrassed?

“It’s just…” he started to say, fidgeting in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable suddenly, despite the fact that he’d trusted them with pretty much everything up to date. Frank figured the only reason he kept going was because he’d have to tell them sooner or later anyway.

“He was kind of…I haven’t exactly…been around somebody like that before…ever.”

They all blinked at him. Gerard sighed, rubbing his eyes until they were a little red.

“You mean…getting high? You’ve been high before, what are you on about?” Frank asked, scratching the back of his head. Besides him, Ray groaned, “You are all total idiots, he’s not talking about hanging out, he’s talking about _hanging out_ , you know?” Both Mikey and Frank blinked back at Ray, still not catching his drift.

“Holy shit, you guys, I’m saying I was a virgin,” Gerard blurted out, cheeks flushed red at his admission.

Oh. Oh… oh no. Oh no, no, no.

“Look, everyone gets real messed up after their first time. It’s not like in the movies or whatever, there’s a high chance of it being a total dick for that stuff. Don’t blame yourself for falling into it,” Ray, the band’s shining beam of hope, said with a warm smile. The group agreed, and Gerard gave them the first smile since heading back to them. Frank forced a smile, keeping his head cool for Gerard, but he was absolutely positively sure he would go back to his mother with the biggest criminal record in history after hearing that Bert, the apparent charismatic dreamboat with a mean streak, has tossed his singer, his frontman, his dungeon master on Friday nights, out in the dirt after defiling him like a twenty-dollar whore. Oh, blood will be shed. Blood. Will. Be. Shed.

Gerard suddenly turned to him, giving him his thousand-dollar smile and Frank felt the anger melt a little bit and turn into a soft, mushy, glop of goo. He mentally slapped himself before he let it show to anybody.

“Thank you…” he muttered.

They’d have to manage with Gerard’s heartbreak for a while. Not that Frank minded, it wasn’t exactly the first time, and at the end of the day, he just wanted Gerard to feel better and be happy and smile. Mostly, smile at frank. And hey, maybe if Frank just so happened to be there for support and shoulder to cry on more than the others -especially more than Mikey, the telepathic sympathetic little shit-, then maybe, sort of…something would grow. Maybe something like a crush.

Wait, stop, no! Oh my god, no, what was he thinking? That would be taking advantage of him in this emotionally sensitive and weak time, and Frank was better than that. Frank didn’t pick up people on the rebound, he didn’t need that kind of thing. He was Frank Iero. Noble and shit.

But then again, maybe he’d get a thank you kiss…for all the support and whatnot.

Frank wrapped Gerard up in a big bear hug, and Gerard responded in turn, “You’re better off without him, anyway. He’s a stupid fuck, you don’t need him when you’ve got friends like us, as cheesy as it sounds.” He really wanted so badly to say something along the lines of, “When you have someone much better, much prettier, and much more emotionally stable right in front of you,” but he bit his tongue. He decided to save it for later, when he’d replay this hug over and over before bed, pretend he actually had said it and then Gerard would have ran towards him in slow-mo, his hair glistening like starlight. And then they’d kiss and they’d live happily ever after, just like Cinderella. Frank bet they would make an awesome Disney movie, though thinking it over he really wanted to be the princess instead.

Wait, stop! Badass. Bad. Ass. Gerard and he would make an awesome action movie, and Frank would get to kill people with a mean-looking gun, and they’d kiss on top of their enemies. Yeah, totally badass. Definitely lives up to the badass macho man title he definitely holds.

Mikey took Gerard to his bunk, not taking long before he was sleeping off the day’s excitement. Back in the lounge, the group made a quick deal not to leave Gerard on his own for the next few days, or at least until they were sure he was fine and Bert wouldn’t make a surprise, last-minute appearance. They agreed on taking turns, so they’d have the time for their own things, though Frank had to resist the urge to volunteer for twenty-four-hour shifts. He would gladly take one for the team and do it all the time, but he had to keep his crush a secret. Nobody could know how much he cared.


	2. Frank and The Middle Of The Night Panic Spree

Despite cheating to try and get the shortest straw of the draw, it was ultimately Bob who ended up pulling it from the group. Still, for mystical reasons Frank did not care about in the slightest, he suddenly had things to do and gave his shift up to none other than frank. So, hooray for last-minute whatever the hell Bob is up to! It almost even felt meant to be.

So now, happy with how the night is turning out with him as Gerard’s personal emotional support buddy, he was back in his hell hole of a top bunk and fiddling around with his old, shitty flip phone, a sleeping Gerard tucked away right below him. He smiled into the blue glow of the screen, still feeling waves of relief every time he remembered that Bert was officially out of the picture and he and the rest of the guys were there to make sure it was for absolute good. Sure, okay, it was with a lot less bloodshed than he imagined, but the trade-off was that it was a lot sooner than he expected, so it was fair. Sort of.

Frank closed his eyes, figuring he should at least get some rest as well. He’d had spent the last few nights worrying and fretting about Gerard’s whereabouts -and, really, he should have realized it sooner how obvious it was he had feelings for the artist- and now that it was done and dusted, he felt himself crash. But the soft sounds of the man underneath’s breathing kept him focused. He felt a little creepy then, though he couldn’t deny the fact that it gave him a new and rather colorful fantasy.

He could just about see it if he tried hard enough. Gerard parting his mouth just a tiny bit, sighing. Maybe Frank would touch his lips gently, feeling the warm air trickle out in an aching, painful pace. He smiled a dirty smile all to himself in the dark, the phone having turned itself off now, and tried to go a little further with his thoughts when he heard a little high noise. Just when it was about to get good -good enough to keep him busy for the rest of the night, he figured-, the phone suddenly slipped from his grip and slapped right onto his face.

He muttered a low “fuck,” the sudden smack really snapping him out of his soon-to-be wet dream, and rubbed the sore spot on his forehead. A light chuckle sounded from beneath him, and, slightly leaning over the edge of his bunk, he saw Gerard peeking up at him and flashing him a small smile.

Well. Hello, butterflies. It’s not been too long since they’d last met, had it?

“Wh-what’re you doing? You’re awake?” Frank stuttered, blinking to try and focus his eyes under the low light. His heart felt like it fluttered at the same rate as a hummingbird’s wings.

“I never really dropped off,” Gerard said with a pout, “I’m just too upset to do anything else…kind of pathetic, I guess.”

“Wha-no, don’t be talking about yourself like that, Gee.”

Frank felt really bad for him then. Despite seeing the whole situation through rage and hellfire tinted glasses, he…didn’t miss the fact that Gerard seemed like he actually liked spending time with Bert. And it wasn’t like Frank was alien to breakups and bad endings, he knew all too well what it was like to be on that side of the fence.

“You really should rest, y’know…” he mumbled, “we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Gerard stuck his tongue out at him briefly, “Same to you, but you didn’t even try to sleep.”

“Well, it’s… I have problems, okay?”

“Frankie, c’mon. Why are you up?”

Frank felt flustered then, not really expecting at all any kind of conversation or interaction with him tonight. He was semi-prepped up for a long day tomorrow of nothing but Gee, with a bit of flirting sprinkled here and there, but the fact that he’d caught him by surprise in the bunks with the rest of the guys there made him nervous. It was a tricky thing, managing a crush when you had three other men almost attached like a second skin. He knew the rest were heavy sleepers, but…still.

Desperate for an excuse, he quickly glanced around his bunk for any bit of inspiration and the metal tin caught his eye. Thinking quick on his feet, he grabbed a hoodie that was tucked away in the corner, hoping it wasn’t too filthy, and pulled it over himself. He hopped down onto the floor with a soft thump.

“Been thinking of grabbing something to drink. It’s hot as fuck tonight in here, you up for some fresh air?”

Gerard immediately sat upright, looking eager, “Please. I really wouldn’t want to be alone with my thoughts right now.”

Frank noticed he hadn’t bothered to change either, both of them still wearing their god awful ripped jeans and black tees, old enough for both their mothers to shame them into oblivion for even thinking of keeping them. He scooped up another hoodie he spotted, figuring it belonged to Ray by its fresh scent, and tossed it over to Gerard who slipped it on, arms first. He tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the anticipation of being alone with Gerard and almost failed to stifle the urge to do another little celebratory fist-bump because, fuck, yes it’s just a short walk to the vending machine and back save for a cigarette or two in between, but they’d be alone. Together. Bonding. He took a little tying up his shoes, hands a little shaky and waited for Gerard to fish around for his own dingy pair of sneakers and put them on.

“Well,” he said, both men trying to quietly get out of the sleeping area with as little noise as possible, “you aren’t really alone with us.”

“I know, but with you…I can talk to you, it's easy. It flows. You’re my best friend, we just relate.”

Frank was almost halfway through a mental fireworks display when Gerard swiftly brought him back down to earth with that simple word. Friend.

“Come on, let’s uh…get to it,” Frank mumbled, pulling the door open.

The crisp night air was a welcoming contrast to the stuffy bus, a breeze picking up slightly and cooling them off. Gerard sighed, already looking a bit more relaxed and more himself. Frank led the way to the vending machines, his nerves getting the better of him and making his hands sweaty and gross. He was starting to get extremely frustrated with how he was reacting, there has never been a time in his entire life he was this much of a mess in front of someone he was interested in. But it seemed like absolutely everything made his heart jump, no matter how small. Even Gerard picking out the same exact drink as he made him go into a frenzy, feeling giddy and happy because look, same drink!

“Shit…” Gerard suddenly said, staring at a spot right behind Frank for a few seconds before walking off inside the little convenience store that was, strangely enough, still open this late at night. Frank thought about calling out to him before he got too far, confused by his sudden change in demeanor when he turned around and saw Bert making a beeline towards him. He offered him a nice set of daggers with his glare and didn’t bother to wait for him, already catching up with Gerard.

He found him by the years-old magazine rack, trying to look as if he was okay with everything and not at all disturbed by Bert so nonchalantly walking up to him. Frank kept his eyes on the automatic glass doors, thoughts already getting dark and morbid. He briefly considered actually going for his supervillain alter-ego, feeling rather confident that his lifetime of horror movie knowledge would be handy enough to pull it off. He took a sip from his drink with a smirk, his mind conjuring up yet another Bert scenario, and missed the curious look Gerard gave him.

“You seem…happy with this turn of events,” Gerard said, drinking from his own tin.

Frank choked on the soda, coughing and feeling taken by surprise by his friend’s comment. Shit. Did he have mind-reading superpowers or something? He desperately needed a quick response.

“Uh, no, no, I just, uh…remembered something from…earlier.”

Ah, great, very clever. Now he needed to figure out what that something was supposed to be.

“Oh? About what?”

“Just, uh…something me and Ray were talking about earlier, about…Bert.”

“Oh? What’d you say?” Gerard perked up, suddenly very interested. Frank mentally punched himself in the face and made another mental note to actually do it for real soon.

“Nothing, just… I said I thought Bert wasn’t…a good influence…on you?”

Gerard raised an eyebrow at this, and Frank defensively raised his arms up, “No, wait, that wasn’t what I said.”

“Okay, so what did you say?”

Oh god, Frank felt like he was about to blow his chances right out the building, past the entire United States, out the atmosphere of the planet, and through the depths of space.

“Just…something about a weird vibe I got from him, that’s all!”

Nice. Vibe. What a save.

“I guess you nailed it,” Gerard said with a small, awkward laugh. Frank simply nodded and looked away, the whole thing leaving him incredibly embarrassed. He opted for going outside, checking the perimeter for any signs of the dickwad, and figured they may as well take this awkward moment back to the bus.

“Well…shall we?” He gestured to the bus. Gerard agreed with a nod, though only after he checked for himself, and followed right after Frank.

Frank, however, was in an absolute panic. He reminded himself to breathe, trying to think back on those bullshit ‘centering’ exercises. his mom always tried to get him to do for ‘Good health!’, but found they were just as useless as he predicted. He felt like the world’s biggest loose and would have appreciated a stray lightning bolt or two hitting him square in the head just to put an end to this uncomfortable silence. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he has officially lost the Badass Macho Man title. He was not worthy anymore, at least not the macho man part. From now on, he donned the Badass Flower Girl title. With a tiara. Better yet, make it princess because he reckoned girls were probably eons braver than he was being, and princesses get to wear tiaras. So it’s a win.

Back inside the bus, Frank quickly hauled himself up into his bunk without speaking another word, sulking. His overreaction suddenly put him in a different state of mind, leaving him wondering if it was really such a good idea in the first place to try and indulge his feelings. Gerard saw him as a friend, a best friend, and if Frank ever pushed it enough that Gerard realized what he was doing, preying on him while he was so vulnerable, it would completely ruin their friendship. And if it actually worked out and something went wrong, Frank would never be able to live with himself having to part ways with Gerard. And, hell, that’s not even mentioning the backlash it would have on the band. They’d have to all split up, and Frank would be on his own again, no one to throw stale bits of popcorn at, or go on weird midnight supermarket runs with, or just…feel comfortable around. He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like ages, thoughts ruminating and getting more and more complicated, though before he knew it, the bus was suddenly in motion and the movement eventually rocked him to sleep.

He woke up to the sound of Mikey’s phone, the buzz and ringtone duo signaling a mass string of texts being sent his way. He groaned, still groggy from the fitful sleep. Frank would absolutely love to know where Mikey got so many people to talk to, his phone constantly peeping and chiming with all sorts, though he remembered there was a certain Wentz that seemed to have attached himself to their own bassist and figured it was probably all from him. They did seem to have turned into pretty close friends recently. He felt a little jealous then, wishing he was getting that amount of attention from Gerard, but quickly shelved it when he realized they practically lived together so there wasn’t much else he could ask for.

Frank slid off his bunk, stretching as far as his limbs would let him. His train of thought the night before hadn’t really left him feeling any better and he decided he should just suck it up and just be there for Gerard. He didn’t want to take any chances or risks with him, or the band, no matter how much he wanted to hug him, or kiss him, or… some slightly inappropriate things he briefly remembers being called sinful from Sunday school way back when.

He decided to go in search of Ray, granting himself at the chance to brag about how right he was to make himself feel a little better. He quickly spotted him -or his big hair, at least- just outside. He seemed to be talking to someone, and, his curiosity getting the better of him, Frank decided to take a peek from the very same window he had been at not long ago. He saw Gerard standing right next to him, not an odd sight at all, though he couldn’t really make out the third party. He pressed his face -yet again- to the glass, and could just make out a greasy pile of hair when he realized it was none other than Bert McKraken, in the flesh.

He felt himself go warm. Why were they talking to Bert? Why even grace that peasant with their presence? It went against everything they had discussed just yesterday, and, besides, why was Ray running that shit show anyway? It was Frank's turn! Bob said so, and Bob’s word is the law, end of.

“What are you doing?”

Frank turned to see Mikey giving him a side-eye from behind. He ignored his question, quickly getting away from the window and fully turning towards the younger Way.

“Why are they talked to Bert?” He asked, failing at keeping calm. Nothing was really happening out there other than them exchanging words, there wasn’t any making up or sorry kissing. He half thought that maybe Ray was trying to help them make amends and maybe smooth it over, but what Ray was unaware of was that, even entirely platonically, Gerard belonged to Frank.

“Ray wanted to clear the air so Gerard wouldn’t get all heartbroken and junk,” Mikey said, re-gluing his eyes to his phone, “so far its been going really smoothly.”

Ah. Smooth. Well, it wasn’t going smooth for Frank now, was it? So they were just going to go ahead and do their little intervention without bringing him into the loop, then? Bullshit! They should include him in these freaking therapy, pass-the-talk-pillow bullshit Exercises, he was the official best friend to Gerard, he’d said so! And best friends should be aware of the situations the other best friend was getting into by regular friends. There is a hierarchy in place, and it needs to be respected, and, currently, it has been disrespected.

“I know that look in your eye, don’t start getting all weird about it. Ray already said how freaked out you were with him about Bert,” Mikey said with an annoyed eye roll, putting his phone away for the first time in…well, ever. He went over to Frank, grimacing at the smudges on the window, “Bert kind of…isn’t that bad of a guy, actually. Plus, things like this happen, people get weird and they react funny.”

What Mikey didn’t know, though was that Bert was absolutely the bad guy. He was the bad guy getting in between the hero and the damsel’s love, of which there wasn’t any because Bert fucking ruined it. Frank huffed and felt himself being tugged away farther from the window.

“Stay put. Gerard’s not an idiot, even when he’s in love.”

Frank could literally hear his heart shattering into tiny, itty bitty little pieces. He knew Gerard liked Bert. He figured it was a possibility that Gerard possibly more than liked Bert. But actually hearing it be articulated out in the open and not as a concept in his head made it so much worse.

He sat down, arms crossed over his chest in frustration. He couldn’t tell what was happening out there anymore, but he did know he would never let go of how bad of a guy Bert was. He was the bad guy in their re-enactment of a princess movie, and the bad guy in the re-enactment of their action movie. And the bad guys always died in the end, which means Bert had to be out of the picture at one point or another, while Frank could bask in the glory of a happy ending and not sitting slumped on the couch, playing with the loose threads of the holes in his jeans.

After a little while, Ray finally came back into the bus with a very pleased looking Gerard coming in right after. Frank stood back up so fast he got a bit of a head rush and shook his head to try and recover quickly.

“What happened?” He asked, rubbing his head.

“Nah, everything’s okay now,” Gerard answered, flashing him a warm smile.

“How okay…do you mean, exactly?”

“Ray helped me and Bert patch things up, so he’s not weird about things anymore.”

Frank felt a lump in his throat, “Are you back together then?” He felt miserable, as if he’d traded places with Gerard and now he was the heartbroken, sulking one. He braced himself for a yes, already imagining them married, with kids, growing old, and buying a burial plot right next to each other, but Gerard simply shook his head.

“Actually, no. Not really,” he was still smiling, confusing Frank quite a lot, “I just wanted things cleared up. Sorta, no bad feelings kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t about to get all Dr.Phil on them and get them to get back together,” Ray said, shrugging, “that was up to them and they didn’t want to. So it’s done, no sleepless nights wondering what if, or why me, or any of that high school crap.”

Oh, Frank could just hug and kiss the living shit out of Ray right then. He wanted to scream thank-yous, and I’m-so-glad-you-helped-Gee, and You’ve-saved-my-hopeless-romantic-ass. Frank’s plan had officially come back on track, and the bad guy was definitely out of the picture with no chance of return.

Which reminded him. He needed to actually plan the plan in the first place before it could go anywhere in its tracks. Something so complex, so amazing, so absolutely positively foolproof that it would work so smoothly, so swiftly that before he knew it, Gerard would be in his arms so head over heels in love he would feel like all his dreams would come true. Codename, “Shoot-Gee-With-My-Love-Arrows”, and it would not fail. He has no idea what the steps are yet, but whatever they would end up being, they. Would. Work.

After hours and hours of plotting and planning, writing up enough rough drafts to make up for some college kids thesis on some stupid fucking subject, he could only get to one conclusion: Pete Wentz. That guy managed to slip into his own frontman’s pants, and Patrick wasn’t even gay. If there was anyone who could help him write up plan “Love Arrows,” it would be him. There was only one little issue with that. All he would need to do was take Mikey’s phone from him for just two seconds. Two! Seconds!

Of course, the sheer audacity of taking Mikey’s phone away would be like taking away the very essence of his existence, akin only to tearing his soul in half (even if it was momentarily). Frank swore his thumbs were glued to the little keys, only moving them away when he wanted to eat. Frank wasn’t entirely sure he let go of that phone when he went to the bathroom, though he decided he didn’t really want to think about how Mikey maneuvered his way in there.

So, Frank was now staring at Mikey, who had his own bunk right across from Frank’s, and watched his every move. Not that he moved a lot other than his fingers, but an opening could come at any second. But Mikey just…kept texting. And texting. And texting. Ray popped in for a second, talking about a car, or some animal on the road or something, Frank didn’t really care. He just kept staring holes right into Mikey, wondering if, really, maybe he had some sort of superpower because he didn’t even twitch his nose.

And he never put his phone down, not once. Frank huffed, thinking he could have been having the best time with Gerard right now, but no, he had to lay there and watch him slowly develop carpal tunnel just because he couldn’t come up with a better plan other than Pete Wentz -in his defense, though Pete Wentz was a brilliant plan, it just meant waiting until the end of time, which would be when Mikey finally puts his phone down and goes to Texters anonymous.

Ray eventually came back in, looking like he needed a good rest himself, but Frank stopped him before he laid down with a hand gripping his shoulder and his head halfway shoved out of his bunk.

“You have to help me,” he half-whispered half-growled, eyes still glued on the younger Way, “also, just for the record, ha, I told you so, expect the victory dance later tonight.“

“What do you want?” Ray asked with a roll of his eyes, almost annoyed.

“I may need to talk to Pete.”

“What, Wentz?”

“Uh, yes, how many Pete’s do you know, huh?”

“Well, there’s-“

“Nevermind that, please!” He tightened his grip, still looking at Mikey though he didn’t even seem fazed at all.

“I don’t think Mikey would like that…”

“Oh, who the fuck cares! Mikey doesn’t show any emotion anyway, and it’s incredibly important!”

“Why?” Ray asked with a deep sigh. This was going to be a long day.

“Personal reasons,” Frank said, letting go of his death grip on Ray’s shoulder to cross his arms in front of himself like a territorial 8th grader.

“Frank…”

“It’s personal, please help.”

“I’m not getting into this, I’m too fucking old for this,” Ray turned on his heel while rubbing his eyes, walking away from Frank. He yelled right after him, nearly falling off his bunk yet again, but it was too late. Ray was already outside, muttering under his breath a few curses, no doubt. Frank hopped off, though not before glaring at a still entirely catatonic Mikey Way, and found his old friend, the window. He quickly forgot about Ray, spotting Gerard come out of the gas station they had chosen for a short pit stop in the middle of the journey, hot coffee in hand and his tattered old hoodie pulled over his head. He rubbed his eyes a few times, looking a little worse for wear, and was making his way back to the bus.

Frank immediately pulled back from the window, refusing to be caught spying, and tried to act cool. It failed, unsurprisingly, when he tried to sit on the couch, already imagining himself looking sly and cool, and instead got his foot caught on a stray cable. He landed square on his ass the moment Gerard got on board.

“Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just the stupid thing got in the way…”

He heard Mikey scoff from the back, Frank shooting him a nervous look before laughing awkwardly. Gerard smiled, looking like he bought the excuse, and tucked himself away in the little bathroom. When the lock clicked and the sink turned on, Frank gave out a long, deep, weary sigh.

“You’re worse than when William Beckett falls in love,” Mikey suddenly spoke. Frank made a face at him, choosing to bite his tongue rather than say something he would regret later, and went back to his one-sided staring contest. Frank was not in love. He was just a man on a mission, and currently, Mikey was the hurdle in between him and his goal. And if he was going to get through this hurdle, he would have to, unfortunately, try and stay on his good side and maybe be nice to him. Which meant no insults, despite how fucking on point and hilarious he thought it would be to fly them his way right then.

So he settled for climbing back up on his bunk, ignoring even Bob when he came in and offered him a nod, and just kept staring at him text. And text. He just did not get it, Mikey wasn’t that social, he figured it would make more sense if it was Gerard with the texting addiction and definitely not the band’s introvert. But the bus even finally started to move along once again, and all he got after those words were maybe a half of a yawn.

Gerard popped out of the bathroom, looking a little more refreshed than before and smelling a little like clean laundry. Frank tried not to make it too obvious he was trying to smell him, but he so totally was and it was glorious. Gerard chuckled at him, glancing between Frank and his brother, “Mikey isn’t into you that way, dude.”

Frank scoffed, the sheer idea making him gag a little, “It’s not like that, I’m simply studying his nature.”

“His…nature. Uh huh.”

“Your brother just happens to be an interesting specimen, hardly moving at all for the past…” he quickly checked the time on his phone, “Jesus Christ, three hours?”

“Right…”

Gerard tucked himself away in his own space, stretching and letting out a small satisfied squeak. Frank was officially annoyed now and figured he deserved a break, one that involved a small celebratory dance. He expected Ray to show up any minute now, but the guy didn’t seem to show up. He leaned over the bunk, trying his best not to fall over before saying “Where’s Ray?”

All four of them exchanged a look, the question weighing enough to even make Mikey stop in his tracks and look at him.

“Well. Fuck. We left Ray.”


	3. Frank and The Fight He Did Not Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sadly all the content I have left for This Tour Sucks. I've tried continuing it for shits and giggles but sadly it just isn't there anymore! I hope it put a smile on someone's face at least, it was a lot of fun to do. Cheers!
> 
> EDIT: Hey guys! A month after posting to AO3 and I decided to try the fic again, and it pulled through! Thanks to all the support And love this fic received, it’s been brought to life after about 7 years of staying in an indefinite hiatus. I love you all!

“We are so…so…sorry…” Gerard apologized, over and over again. Ray didn’t say a word, opting for aggressively chewing on a snickers bar instead of saying something he would later regret. They’d driven away and gotten pretty far down the road, even into the highway already, before they’d realized their missing member and, it was safe to say, Ray was pretty pissed. He distinctly remembered telling someone he needed to go to the bathroom, but the most he got was an apologetic shrug from the rest of the guys and a smirk from Frank. He mouthed the words ‘Karma’ at him under his breath and received a sudden shove back when Ray got onto the bus again.

“Wh-Ray, no, come on… We didn’t do it on purpose!” Gerard called out to him.

“Well, it isn’t the first time! Remember last time, when we had that shitty van? My pants were almost at my ankles, I had to run after you for ages before you stopped driving!”

“Oh, that was…yeah, okay, that was pretty bad, but it still wasn’t on purpose,” Gerard argued back, looking terribly guilty and concerned.

Frank took the chance to slip past Ray, heading towards the bunks during the whole commotion. Not that he was happy they’d nearly abandoned Ray for real, the guy was their criminal mastermind and friend and it really did suck they kind of didn’t bother to make sure he was on board, but the whole thing had left him with a chance of a lifetime. Once they’d been driven back to the gas station, right before they all got off the bus to console an angry Ray, Mikey had very conveniently left his phone behind on his sleeping space.

He pulled the sheets around, lifting them gently, and the little cell tumbled down onto the thin mattress. He quickly went into the common area, peeking out the window to spot Mikey inside the gas station buying what seemed like a month’s worth of sweets. Satisfied with his big heist coming along smoothly, he snatched the phone up and started leafing through the contacts list like mad. But the letter ‘P’ came and passed, and, strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be anyone under the name of Pete. He frowned, pressing the buttons quicker to get to the next letter, ‘W’, still in disbelief that Mikey seriously had this many numbers in his cell. He even had…Brent Wilson?

“Fuck me, he even has Panic’s original bassist, what the fuck?” Frank muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. Why he would need to talk to that guy, he had absolutely no clue, but even the infamous Brent Wilson had graced Mikey’s phone and not Pete Wentz.

He was about to give up, getting increasingly frustrated with the amount of times he started from the top of the list and scrolled all the way to the bottom, when a text suddenly pinged. He nearly tossed the phone against the wall, startled by the unexpected noise and buzz, and tried not to eavesdrop, but the strange name caught his eye.

“Text from…BigBoy?” He read aloud, “Don’t forget…my clandestine industries hoodie…I want you to only wear i-oh my god its Pete.”

He slammed the phone onto the bed with his eyes wide and staring into nothing for a few seconds, the full weight of the preview of the text sinking in. “Ohh…oh ho ho my fucking god, Mikey you dirty bastard.”

Frank did not under any circumstances need to know the nature of their relationship and definitely would have rather just stayed ignorant, save for speculating and wondering, and he especially did not need to know Pete’s incredibly revealing nickname that did not take a lot to figure out. He quickly tapped into the contacts list again, careful not to open up the text and remove the little notification, and repeated the number under his breath a few times. Certain he had the numbers down, he tucked the phone back into its place and adjusted the thin blanket back to where it used to be as best he could remember.

He quickly pulled himself off of Mikey’s space and went in search of somewhere to write on and something to write with, luckily spotting a discarded receipt for pizza on the floor and one of Gerard’s old drawing pens in the other bunk. Ears open for any kind of movement from outside, he scribbled the numbers as quickly as possible and as legible as he could muster without it turning into chicken scratches, and grinned.

Goal fucking accomplished.

He could just about taste his fantasies becoming a reality, the thought of Gerard actually returning his feelings in full enough to send him into a premature victory dance. It didn’t last long, stopping abruptly when he heard Gerard come in, still apologizing profusely at Ray who followed right after, still looking annoyed.

Frank shot him a knowing smile. Ray stared at him, Frank responded by waving the little receipt with the numbers on it.

“You actually got it,” Ray said, incredulously.

“Thanks to you being abandoned, I was successful in part one of my secret plan Mr. Toro. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a victory dance to, also secretly, continue.”

“That was definitely not a victory dance, Frank, that was like… a half-assed Macarena.”

Frank flipped him the bird and stuck his tongue out. So what if his victory dance was a low quality pirated version of the Macarena? He was badass flower princess. He had a crown to prove it, royalty got to make the rules, and his rules say its allowed.

“Bite me, Toro,” He said as he practically skipped back to his bunk.

He sprawled himself onto it and let his feet dangle off the side, the little piece of heaven on a paper still in his hand. He hummed, content that so much seemed to be falling into place. Gerard was safe from the clutches of Bert, Ray got his karma for being a meanie and nearly getting the two back together, and he got what he needed with absolutely no casualties. He could finally relax for a few minutes, not having to worry about his world crashing down.

He heard Mikey come back in, the rustling of candy wrappers signaling him in advance before he could spot him. He slyly peeked at him flop onto his bunk, pouring the mountain of sweets beside him and going back to his cell, entirely unaware of its violation. He quietly fist-bumped the air again in victory. He should definitely add a title now. He was a badass macho man no more, but now? Now he was Agent Badass Flower Princess.

The bus’ motor hummed back to life, their driver grumbling and annoyed by the delay. He shouted back that they would be roughly an hour later than planned, but nobody seemed that bothered by it. Their own show was on close to last, and, despite pissing off more than a few techies by not showing up as they should, Frank figured it wasn’t that much of a bad thing. A lot better than showing up without a lead guitarist, anyway.

He was just about to go back to his fantasies again, revisiting the wonderful world of Gerard taking a shower, when he felt someone pull on his ankles and drag him forcefully right out of his bunk and onto his ass.

“Ah, what the fuck, dude?!” He cursed, rubbing his aching ass. He was sure now that top bunks were conjured in the deepest, darkest pits of hell.

“You,” Ray said, pointing a finger at Frank, “Are going to tell me right now what you’re planning, and why. And you won’t leave any detail behind.”

Frank scoffed, still sitting on the floor but now with his arms crossed over his chest defensively. Territorial 8th grader mode, switched the-fuck on.

“Uh, no, that is definitely between Big Boy and me, alright?”

Ray lifted an eyebrow at him, and Frank suddenly froze, the name he used weighing on him and making him panic as he realized his slip up.

“Big boy?” Ray asked.

“Ah, just…forget about that! Frank quickly waved his hands about, anxious. He whipped his head towards Mikey, a wave of relief settling over him when he noticed the clunky, noise-canceling headphones he adored were nested over his ears, a slight booming bass murmuring out of them on occasion. “Thank god for those ugly headphones…” Frank mumbled under his breath.

“Hey, focus,” Ray snapped his fingers a mere inch away from his face, getting his attention again, “For the sake of everybody unlucky enough to be stuck here for another full hour, explain.”

Frank stood up, rubbing his sore ass, and rolled his eyes at him. “Look, here’s the thing…” he began. He bit his lip ring nervously, avoiding looking into Ray’s eyes out of fear of being figured out in 20 seconds flat, “Okay, so the thing…the thing is just…”

Would he really speak the unspeakable? Mention the unmentionable? Break his own promise and spill the beans? Bite the bullet? Shine the light in the dark and ruin his friendship? Possibly never get laid again, and, oh god, confess?

“No, fuck you, no way,” He climbed back onto the hell cave as quick as he could, kicking wildly and awkwardly to try and stop any attempt to get him out. Ray tried to pull him off yet again, but he successfully tucked away into the farthest corner and out of his reach.“Frank!” Ray yelled, pulling back the flimsy curtain as far as it would go without breaking. Frank responded by pulling out his tiny MP3 player, sticking in his earbuds and turning the music way up. The unspeakable would just have to remain unspeakable. End of story.

The commotion was enough to get Gerard’s attention, getting him to rush into the room looking ready for a fight.

“What’s going on?!”

“This little fucker doesn’t want to tell me why he needed Pete Wentz’s number,” Ray complained.

“Pete’s number?” Mikey asked, suddenly entirely aware and listening. Frank tossed his flat pillow at Mikey, successfully hitting him square in the face and eliciting a giggle from Gerard, a beautiful noise that made his stomach turn upside down. He smacked his own forehead and groaned loudly. This was not going as planned. Getting harassed by an Afro that just so happened to have sentience wasn’t on today’s to-do list, right now he had chill time scheduled to celebrate his success but no, Ray had to go and ruin it.

“Yeah, you heard me. Pete Wentz, and he won’t tell anyone why but he was desperate enough to get it off your phone.”

“What?! That’s messed up!” Mikey yelled, sitting up abruptly and glaring at Frank. He was in seriously deep shit now, he’d never even seen Mikey express anything other than apathy. He had come to terms with the fact that the guy was probably pretty stoic, but he could see the betrayal written clearly in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay?! It was an emergency!” Frank yelled back, ripping the buds out of his ears. “Oh, and, Big Boy? Seriously?”

Mikey stopped glaring, looking extremely embarrassed. His cheeks flushed a deep scarlet and he stuttered, “I didn’t mean for anyone else to see that!”

“Wait a minute, so that’s why you kept staring at Mikey? I have to say, I’m a little relieved,” Gerard said, looking very amused. Frank buried his face into the mattress, desperately wishing none of this had happened. He should just abort the mission and call it a day, he wasn’t good enough to have the Agent title. He would just have to resort to Flower Princess because after that sad attempt, he didn’t quite feel the Badass.

“Alright, now that we’ve established everything and everybody knows my horrible sins, can we please just drop it?” He asked, reaching over to pull on the little curtain so he could shut himself out and pretend everything was still okay for a little while. Not that he would be successful anyway, it was very clear he was not allowed any chill time in his schedule due to his constant failures in love. He briefly considered going back to his plans on tormenting Bert with his alias, thinking it much easier than attempting to have stealth and wits, but figured it was no use now that he didn’t really even want to look in Gerard’s direction anymore.

He turned onto his back, sulking at the ceiling. He heard some grumbling, Ray finally giving up and leaving him to his devices and looking for Bob to complain to. He heard Bob laugh occasionally, probably not really interested but still being polite nonetheless. Frank couldn’t blame Ray for snooping and pulling it out in the open, usually Frank’s plans went haywire or just barely succeeded, and when they did it was only because he lowered the bar so low it was impossible to mess up. It was kind of the norm for Ray to pry until Frank gave in and told him everything, followed by a long heart to heart talk that ended in Frank giving up his plans for the sake of not rocking the boat too much. Which sucked, because Frank loved rocking the boat.

He heard Mikey jump onto the couch with a grumble, Ray teasing him about his reddened cheeks, and it wasn’t long before the familiar clicking of keys resumed and Mikey was back to texting, everyone back to normal. He sighed, thinking he was finally left alone, but suddenly remembered he hadn’t heard Gerard leave.

Just then, a little ray of light shone onto his face through a little crack in the curtain. Gerard peeked into it. “Make some room,” he said, after making sure his friend hadn’t been trying to sleep, or anything a little more questionable, and pulled the curtain back enough to climb in. Frank pressed himself against the wall, his heart catching in his throat and definitely not anticipating this at all. They were pretty squished together, not that Frank was complaining, but he crossed his fingers Gerard wouldn’t notice how hard his heart was beating then.

“Right,” Gerard said, trying to get as comfortable as he could in the small space, “Tell me what’s up.”

Frank bit his lip ring again and tried to focus on what he would say rather than the fact that Gerard was so close to him he could feel his breath on his cheeks. He would never understand how he got himself into these kinds of situations, with the man of his dreams right there in his bed and…not naked and under him. What gives? The universe seemed to enjoy making him into a joke.

Gerard kept his eyes on him, eyes wide and curious and waiting for an answer. Frank, in a small moment of bravery, looked right at him but felt his mouth close up. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat, but the words didn’t come. Gerard licked his lips nervously and averted his eyes away from Frank. “Is it because you like Pete?”

“Pete, no!” Frank loudly blurted out, “are you crazy?”

“It’s okay if you do!” Gerard quickly retorted, the strange look he just had now gone, “but Mikey will definitely murder you. They sort of…have a thing.”

Frank snorted, “a thing. So that’s what you call it?”

Gerard shrugged, as best he could in the tight space, and continued his wide-eyed stare. Frank sighed, still struggling with the fact that he was so close and yet so far.

“No, Gee. I don’t like Pete. Please shoot me if I ever do.”

“Okay, so then…who’s pants do you want to get into?” Gerard smiled then, the kind of smile that was meant to be comforting but came out so painfully adorable that Frank just melted inside and felt the strongest urge to kiss him just so he could calm down.

“Nobody, it’s not like that!” Frank defended as quickly as he could, though his tone gave him away.

“Frank,” Gerard dropped the smile. Frank sighed, that same weary heavy smile he was becoming so familiar with.

“Right, nobody goes to Pete Wentz just to say hi. They either want to get into his pants, want to know where the next party is, or they need his help. And he specializes in love interests. Come to think of it, I hear he’s charging now…” Gerard seemed thoughtful for a moment, and Frank looked in disbelief. So he had to come up with money now? How was he supposed to do that, stand at a corner somewhere and show some leg? He hadn’t shaved in months.

“Well, whatever, you ruled out the first one, and, even though you want everyone to think you’re some crazy party guy, you’re the most introverted dude I know. You hate the party crowds. So…who is it?”

It was safe to say Frank was freaking out, for numerous reasons. One of them being that he couldn’t believe Gerard really did know him so well, his heart racing like mad, and the other being that he had no way of getting out of this one. He was trapped, both figuratively and literally, and Gerard wouldn’t stop making that face at him that said “I’m not going anywhere and I’ll even die here if that’s what it takes for you to open up”, and it was taking every inch of what was left of Frank’s willpower not to break down and spill every single word. He finally gathered enough courage to look his friend in the eye again, ignoring the aggressive fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach. “It’s nothing much, really,” he said, suddenly feeling like his plan was…really stupid. He couldn’t make out what about it was supposed to be so brilliant in the first place, it was Pete Wentz for crying out loud. If he really goes through with talking to him, what was stopping Pete from telling Mikey, who’d tell Gerard? Then his life would be over, he’d be shunned from the band, and, oh god no, he’d had to LEAVE the band then, go back home, live with his mother because he’d only get a shitty part-time and not be able to afford rent, and…oh god, and then the band would be huge and he’d just be stuck going to Saturday and Sunday church for the rest of his LIFE just to please his mother, all because he thought Pete Wentz was a good idea? He didn’t think any of that was far off just then, his breathing quickening up its pace into hyperventilating.

“Frank,” Gerard snapped him out of it, “don’t you trust me?”

Frank wanted to answer truthfully then and put everything to rest. Just a pure, wholesome, honest sounding “I trust you more than you know, because I love you so much and I lust for you so much more than that idiot McCracken ever did or could or, for that matter, any other boyfriend or girlfriend you’ve ever had because you’re just so damn YOU,” but he bit his tongue hard enough to cut it. He couldn’t allow any outbursts.

“Of course I do, Gee, it’s…it has nothing to do with trust,” he finally said. Gerard turned slightly to the side, pulling the curtain back just far enough to check what the rest of the guys were doing. Frank took the split second of the broken eye contact to take a deep breath of fresh air and attempt to calm down, though it was hardly possible because Gerard fucking Way was right there and it was all he could smell and breathe and, fuck, what kind of cologne did he have on?

Gerard, pleased that nobody seemed to be interested in whatever it was called that they were doing and were being left completely alone, pulled it closed again and swiftly pressed his nose right up against Frank’s.

“You are going to tell me,” he said, eyes fixated right into Frank’s and his breath tickling the guitarists' lips, “There is no other way out of this bunk except through me, unluckily for you.”

Yes. Very unlucky. The bad luck being that he probably had a half going on somewhere below the belt and he had to be incredibly clever, something he seemed to be lacking as of late, to keep it entirely a secret. Frank then promised himself he would omit that detail later when he would recall the entire situation and mix it up with a few fantasies…because, really. This? What Gerard was doing? Pure daydream fuel. So much left to the imagination. So many interesting turns this should be taking and, oh, fuck, it’s getting past half now.

“Gerard, please,” Frank pleaded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. This was…yeah, this really was something.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“No!”

“I will not stop insisting until we get off this bus, and even then I’ll do this again and again until you tell me. There is no escape, Iero, spill. Now!”

“Alright, alright! It’s-“

The bus suddenly had an abrupt stop, shaking them about in the bunk until they nearly tumbled out of it. Frank, before Gerard slid off and fell on whatever mysterious objects their bandmates had left out, slipped his arm around his waist and pulled him completely flush against himself. He stopped his breathing, the only thoughts constantly running through his head was hope that Gerard did not notice that Frank was, no doubt about it, sporting a proudly standing General in his jeans.

They heard a knock on the side of the bunk, the voice of Bob Bryar coming through the curtain, “We’re here, girls.”

Frank sighed in relief, letting go of Gerard’s waist so he could hop off the bunk, but Gerard narrowed his eyes all the way down into a slit. He pointed a finger at him, menacingly, then left to gather his things and meet the rest of the crew outside.

Frank took a moment to slap himself on the forehead hard enough to leave a red welt. Gerard was just there. His mouth centimeters away from Frank’s, noses touching, bodies all pressed up against each other and, Mother Mary and all the saints and whoever else he forgot to mention, he had Gerard by the waist. He stuck a hand past the waistband of his pants, annoyed that he’d just happened to opt-out of wearing underwear then, and tried to adjust himself as stealthily as he could before hopping out himself.

He found himself alone in the bus again, everyone already out and getting things sorted a quickly as they could without messing up. He found his place again at the window, abandoning any kind of shame and pressing his nose against it. He spotted Mikey first, who stood with Pete in a little corner at the far end of the lot trying to sneak his way to holding Pete’s hand. He scoffed. Lucky bastard had a boyfriend to hold hands with. He looked away, trying to avoid catching anything a little more explicit, and found Ray being his usual charismatic self, chatting away with a group of guitarists and frontmen. He ignored that, not really interested in whatever joke was working out for him, and finally found Gerard doing an awkward, nervous pace. Frank pressed his face even closer to the glass, his cheeks squished against it, and wondered what his unrequited love was doing.

“Dude…”

The sound had him jump out of his skin. Bob rolled his eyes and grabbed a fistful of the back of Frank’s shirt, pulling him away from the window. “I seriously don’t know how this is considered legal in any state…” he mumbled, dragging him out of the bus and dumping him like a banged-up suitcase on the dusty floor. “I get that you’re in love with Gerard and all, but I’m almost sure this is considered stalking.”

“I’m not in love with him! Or…anyone, for that matter,” Frank protested, “I’m just looking out for him.”

“Ah, sure. Right. And I’m not a drummer, I’m just checking out how hard I can hit things.”

Frank glared at him, though Bob let him be and left, grumbling under his breath something about Frank being a “middle school chick”. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants and sticking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Was it really that obvious? Not that Frank deluded himself into thinking he was really that sneaky, but, still, the way Bob said it was as if everybody and their grandmother knew how he felt about Gerard. It wasn’t like he really was some middle school chick who played with the hem of her skirt any time a boy even breathed in her direction. Not…that it would be a bad thing for Gerard to breathe in his direction, but he was badass flower princess, okay? He doesn’t do that. He thought that it was time he actually got a real tiara or a crown to prove it, because it seemed obvious that everyone else was completely missing out on how badass he really was.

He hoped there was some sort of a costume shop around, or a girl’s shop like Claire’s, already trying to think up of the excuse he’d give to the cashier about getting it for his dog. Actually, now that he thought about it, a tiara would look good on Mama…yeah, she could be his sidekick. Diamond Dog. Fuck yeah.

About to ask around for a shop, he stopped in his tracks when he heard shouting. He turned towards it source and saw a very nervous and angry Gerard arguing with Bert, people gathering around and whispering amongst each other, staring. Frank ran over, pushing himself through the small crowd, to find Ray trying to break it up. Bert shouted, something weirdly incoherent, and pulled his arm back.

“Oh, no, not today, you fuck,” Frank pushed Gerard out of the way before Bert’s fist could connect, but needed up being on the receiving end of the blow himself, the sudden but very painful ache on his face letting him bring him back to earth. He didn’t really see it if he was being honest. One second Gerard was stumbling off, the next he was on the floor with the worst headache he’d had in a while.

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Gerard shouted, crouching over Frank and fretting over him, “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“You’re welcome…!” Frank mumbled. Above him, Bert rubbed his lightly bruised knuckles, looking satisfied. “Look at that,” he said with a grin, “two birds one stone then. I can mark Punching a Midget off my bucket list now.”

“Alright, that’s enough, you guys,” Pete said. When had he come over? Wasn’t he busy feeling up Mikey? Speaking of…hey, where’s Mikey? Ah…aha, Mikey got felt up by Pete…ah, his face hurt like a motherfucker.

“Just let it go, both of you. You,” he pointed at Bert, “go get your shit ready before I call the cops on you. And you,” he pointed now at Gerard, “he’s not worth arguing with, believe me. I’ve tried. The only show that’s scheduled is for on stage, so everyone get your equipment and move along or stay out of the way. It’s done.”

The crowd slowly dissolved, not that Frank really noticed. Some guy, Jeph he vaguely remembered, smacked Bert on the back in a friendly manner and praised him, walking off to…somewhere. Where did they go? He wasn’t sure. He tried shaking his head a little to get his senses back, but the pain flared up even worse. Pete, now satisfied that nobody was lingering, turned to check out the damage.

Frank was still on the floor, his nose a bloody mess. He felt dizzy, irritated that he left himself be such an open target but counted himself lucky he hadn’t been knocked out. He could still think and he was, technically aware now that a little more time had passed, the only problem was the excruciating pain.

“Some hero you are,” Pete grinned and laughed. Mikey, looking as if he had been there the entire time, kept shaking his head and looking disappointed, “It’s kinda funny you’re the only one that got hurt.”

“I couldn’t really…move quick enough,” Frank mumbled, sounding like his nose was stuffy from a cold. He sat himself up, not without a little help from Gerard who was fretting over him like a worried mother, and tried to stop the fountain of blood with his shirt.

“You look…creepy,” Gerard said, putting on his best apologetic smile.

“Lovely,” Frank grunted through his teeth, gritting them together when a particularly bad wave of pain suddenly hit. Gerard placed a hand gently on Frank’s cheek, inspecting his nose. He softly poked it, getting an immediate sound of complaint from Frank.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Pete said, pulling out his phone, but a garbled yelp startled him and stopped him from dialing the numbers.

“No, are you crazy? I can’t afford an ambulance!”

Pete seemed to agree, putting his phone away without any calls being made, “you still need some kind of care. You can’t go on stage looking like a murder scene.”

“Oh, what do you know…it’s…the My Chemical Romance experience. The kids will LOVE it…”

“No, for real, let’s get you to the ER,” Gerard pulled him up to his feet. Frank felt his insides flutter again. Please, just Gerard…just him and Gerard alone in the waiting room, that might give him some time to worm his way into his heart. God knows it would take a century to see someone anyway, so he had enough time to spare.

“Here,” Pete fished around in his front pocket, leaving Frank to wonder how the hell the man got anything in those skinny jeans, and threw a folded piece of paper at Gerard. He pulled it apart to reveal a twenty. “Just in case you need it, maybe call a cab or something. I’d go but I still need to get my own shit together. Just call, okay?”

Oh, fuck yes, just Gerard will WORK.

“Just don’t go getting anything else bloody, alright?” Pete snaked an arm around Mikey’s waist, dragging him away.

“Yeah yeah…you don’t go hurting anyone either, Big Boy!” Frank called out, ignoring the shooting pains. It was so worth it to see the look of sheer horror grace the normally neutral Mikey, though it seemed Pete was loving it.

“Right…” Gerard said, turning them to the opposite direction, “Come on.”

Frank moaned in protest. He was happy he only had Gerard tagging along, silently adding another bullet point to his master plan on romancing him in the hospital waiting room, but it didn’t mean he was happy going to the ER in the first place. He hated going to the hospital. He’d spent nearly his entire childhood going in and out of sterile places, wearing all kinds of drips and IV’s and becoming all too familiar with the nurses. It wasn’t really a cheerful event.

“I’m fine…really,” He said, wiping away some of the blood still gracing his face with the back of his hand. He cleaned it off with his shirt, already thinking of tossing it somewhere convenient where it would scare the locals, though Gerard seemed determined to get him straight to the ER, guiding them out of Warped Tour’s lot.

“No, you really aren’t. You just got punched in the face by Bert.”

“No, seriously, I’m okay,” he repeated. He wasn’t about to let a little, tiny injury get in the way. He had more important plans that needed to be taken care of, plans that involved tiaras for instance.

“Oh, knock it off. I know you don’t like making a big deal out of things like this, but…I want you to be okay, I’m not really crazy about staying up all night worried you might have a concussion or something.”

“Please, my entire existence is a concussion…”

He tried to hide his excitement with some witty comment, but knowing Gerard was worried about him was sending him sky-high.

“No, come on, I want you to be okay.”

Frank turned his face away, trying to hide his blush with a shrug. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his nose at another attempt to hide the pink on his face, “I have one condition then.”

“Oh?” Gerard asked, smiling, “What’s that?”

“Buy me a tiara.”

Gerard laughed, a loud, beautiful noise that brought the butterflies back again.

“Sure thing, princess.”


	4. Frank and How Everyone Knows He's Not A Ladies Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After trying many many times, I finally was able to sit down and attempt to continue this fic. I really hope it reads well and you guys like it, my worry is that the writing style or something differs too much from the original or if it strays too far. I did have a ton of fun doing it! Cheers!

He was wired. Frank was wired as hell, full up on the cheap but oddly delicious hospital coffee machine, and so incredibly aware of how close Gerard had been when they finally got called in to see a nurse earlier. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, especially the part where Gerard had given his hand a squeeze when the nurse started to poke and prod at his poor, beaten face. 

Now he was waiting outside, Gerard off somewhere doing...well, he wasn’t sure, he didn’t really pay attention to the actual words coming out of his mouth when he was so distracted by the sound of his voice, and he’d decided to fuel up on caffeine before they had to get themselves back to Warped to shred the stage and cause their usual chaos. Frank tried to argue he was ready to give more than the normal amount of chaos, very eagerly explaining to Gerard how he’d been dying to punch someone down in the mosh pit while Gerard gently reminded him his job was being on the stage, not OFF it, but really it had been a complete and total ruse just to keep him talking and keep him focused on Frank. 

Plus, the caffeine helped distract him from the fact that he was, in fact, once again in a hospital. The familiar beeps and boops of intercoms and machines irritated the crap out of him and he tried avoiding the overly sanitized place as best he could, but it wouldn’t do to carry a broken face for the rest of the tour. It sucked enough as it was, pining after your best friend, getting punched in the face by a gorilla, exposing his eyes to the love affair of a flat assed man and his partner, so the hospital was the lesser evil then.

The phone in his back pocket buzzed. He fished it out, mumbling a ‘Lo’ as best he could without moving his face too much.

“Hey!” Pete’s voice blared through, eager and happy, “How’s my favorite knight in shining armor doing?”

“I have tape on my face,” Frank replied, wincing a little, “But I’m all done.”

“Oh, good! ‘Cuz, uh, we have a problem.”

Frank awkwardly stuck his leg out to try and reach for his cigarettes while the phone remained squeezed between his shoulder and his cheek. The pain flared up then and he grimaced, but if Pete Wentz called about a problem you really kinda needed the nicotine to combat whatever news he had to deliver. 

“Alright, I have my lighter, hit me.”

Pete chuckled, “I think you’ve been hit enough for the year.”

“Ha! Hah, funny, it’s a shame you cant see which finger I’m holding up,” Frank stuck the unlit cigarette between his lips and clicked the lighter in front of it, using his newly freed hand to give his face and shoulder a rest. 

“Right, here’s what’s up. The coordinators got wind of the whole physical assault thing, so My Chem’s shows were rescheduled to be as far from The Used’s shows as they could in such short notice. You guys start in under an hour as of now.”

“Under an hour?!” Frank yelled, almost spitting out his cigarette (now lit after a few pathetic attempts and curses at the wind), and earning himself a few glares from whoever was unlucky enough to still be in the dreadful place. “I haven’t got a clean change of clothes, I’m still covered in blood. And, hey, this was your idea in the first place, now you’re telling me we both have to haul ass and prepare in that time?”

“Well...yeah, kind of. You can work it out! Just like you said, giving the kids the My Chemical Romance experience, right?”

Frank suppressed a scoff. He was totally ready to suck it up and fuck shit up on stage, give them what they paid for even with his face being half-bandage and all bruised up, but he’d really been hoping on more alone time with Gerard. Somehow it had been super easy for Bert to scoop Gerard up and take him to whore land and go to town, but no, apparently Frank had been marked by god or something and been made to unknowingly promise celibacy during the whole tour. Maybe it was punishment. Who could tell at this point? Everything felt like punishment then, especially the bright look he saw on Gerard’s face when the man finally emerged from what appeared to be out of nowhere, smiling so big and so warmly at him that Frank almost exploded on the inside.

“Frank? You there?”

“Uh-Yes! Yes, I am here! I, uh...I’m here,” Frank openly stared at Gerard, soaking him all in. Did he know he was beautiful? He had to, he was so absolutely pretty and charming and, ugh, Frank wanted to throw up then because it was too fucking sweet the way he didn’t stop smiling, carrying that plastic bag loosely in his fist and trying to fix his greasy hair while the wind tried to mess it up. 

“You’re drooling over Gerard, aren’t you?” Pete said, and Frank could just see him doing a weird eyebrow wiggle through the phone. 

“I’m not! I gotta go, we’ll catch up real soon, okay?” Frank quickly said, trying to end the phone call.

“Ah-ha, I’ll be seeing you. And, hey, keep the shirt! ‘Life On The Murder Scene’, right?”

Gerard gave him a tiny wave, waking up the swarm of butterflies in Frank’s stomach instantly. He snapped the phone shut, not really caring wether or not he’d said a goodbye to Pete on the other side. He exhaled a little cloud of smoke to the side and tossed the cigarette butt on the floor, promptly crushing it with his shoe, and waved back to Gerard.

“We gotta go back?” Gerard asked, apparently correctly guessing the call Frank had just received and looking cute, sweet, and a little worried. Pure and absolute torture and, it turns out, definitely had to be telepathic as it was the second time he’d correctly read Frank. Hold your goddamn horses, dudes and dudettes, Frank’s boyfriend-who-doesn’t-know-he’s-his-boyfriend has superpowers.The movie has just changed plot, and he was already planning numerous comic books and series to back it up when he realized he needed to actually say something back and not just daydream. Frank mentally slapped himself.

“We gotta go back,” he repeated, sticking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie sheepishly. 

“Well, at least go and clean up...not that you don’t look badass-“

Oh. Was that...acknowledgement? To his badassery? From Gerard?

“-but you’re going to end up smelling like a murder scene if you don’t freshen up. You can use the bathrooms in the ER-“

“Please no, I’ve been holding a gag the whole time we were in there, if I so much see another hand sanitizer I’ll be sick.”

“Okay, well there’s a gas station nearby with a bathroom that’s probably never seen hand sanitizer, so you should be good there. Oh! Also, here...”

Gerard stuck his arm out, offering him the plastic bag. Frank took it, taking the chance to sneak a touch at his hand, before opening it and looking inside. Gerard smiled at him and gave his shoulder a little squeeze. Frank looked at him again and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning like an idiot, feeling that oh so familiar wave of love and adoration hit him.

“I got you a clean shirt,” he said out of the corner of his mouth and, Oh MY god, Frank was just about to burst, “And, as promised, a tiara. And!” Gerard excitedly put his hand inside the bag and pulled the whole cardboard and plastic packaging out of it, and eagerly pointed at the additional toy, “A little scepter to match. For my, uh...well, princesses don’t usually get punched in the face for their prince, but you’ve never done anything by the book anyway, so yeah. Do you like it?”

Did he like it? Did he like it, he asks. Frank loved it. He loved it so much he wanted to never open the little toy and wanted to frame it, put candles around it, and worship it like he’d been gifted armor from the highest, most holy being in the planet. But that would have successfully thrown his plan out the window and to the dogs, so be coughed and hid his blush from Gerard instead.

“I do, yeah, it’s really cool. I’ll wear it when we play, it’ll draw attention away from my face. How bad is it, anyway?” Frank successfully changed the subject, trying his best to keep it friendly and focused and not at all loose his mind over the fact that Gerard so openly and casually called him his princess. His princess! His! Frank was! His princess, and Gerard was his handsome prince. He promised to personally go up to Bert and thank him for beating him bloody once it was all over and done with, because, yeah, he was a dick, but a dick he desperately needed to get Gerard to realize that, yes, he was his princess. 

“Well,” Gerard said, trying to look supportive, “You’re...purple. Really purple.”

“Okay, so nothing new then?”

“It’s a lot worse than I’ve ever seen you before, but you’ll live. And if not, I promise to mourn you every single day.”

“Only if you leave black roses on my grave and throw yourself over it and scream, ‘Why! He was so young!’. And tell anyone in a five mile radius how you regret never spending a night with me. That is my condition.”

Gerard laughed loud and wrapped an arm across his shoulders, bringing him in for a small side hug, “You’re coming up with a lot of conditions lately. Are you planning something?”

Frank choked on his own spit then, the coughing irritating his face more and giving him a headache. “Nope,” he quickly said in between hacking his lungs out, “I’m just me! Frank Iero... fighter extraordinaire.”

“You know, you really didn’t have to do that for me,” Gerard’s voice dropped a little, “You could have been seriously knocked the fuck out. Then who are we supposed to go to for shitty band recommendations and stupid stories?”

“I hear Bob has some wild stories from when he was a Boy Scout,” Frank joked. He put the toy back in the bag and held it in one hand, a happy and giddy feeling overcoming him. Gerard rolled his eyes and let go, heading off now in the direction of what Frank assumed would be the gas station and its not at all sterile bathroom. He stretched his arms high up in the air, joints popping a little bit, giving Frank a little glimpse of the milky white skin that existed underneath the layers of cotton and elastic. Oof, that was definitely more material for the general to review later when he had the chance to set up a meeting.

Gerard turned then, asking him to catch up, and Frank snapped out of his stupor and hurried along to match his steps. It didn’t take them too long to find the gas station, asking the clerk for the keys so Frank could change into his brand new, Gerard bought shirt. If it was up to him, personally, he’d keep the dirty one. It was an absolute blast getting stares from the locals, definitely scaring a few grandmas, but Gerard had so nicely gone out of his way that he wasn’t gonna say no.

Clicking the door behind him, he quickly scanned himself in the mirror. Gerard was right. The nurses had done a good job at cleaning most of the blood off his face and neck, but he’d definitely suffered the blunt end of this encounter and there was no way he could offer up the excuse of “You should see the other guy.” He poked around a little bit and snarled when he found his lip had actually suffered as well. When did that nasty little skid wipe split his lip? He’d nearly ruined his piercing! Unbelievable, no class at all, wasn’t he aware that it was his bread and butter? 

Grumbling to himself, he pulled off his dirty shirt and tossed it into the bin nearby, pulling the brand new one over his own head. It was a simple white tshirt, nothing special or unusual about it, but it quickly became the most important thing he had ever worn in his entire life. Cleaning up a little bit before finishing, he swore he would protect that t-shirt with everything he had. He’d pick up a few karate moves from the internet or something, whatever it took, but nobody would touch it.

“Okay...’ He said, feeling a little cleaner now and pulling the hoodie back on, “better?”

“Not really, you still look like shit, but that’s okay,” Gerard grinned. 

“Oh, you have such a way with words, I’m swooning,” Frank mumbled through another cigarette he popped in his mouth, trying to hide the fact that he was, indeed, very close to swooning.

“You ready then?” Gerard asked, taking a cigarette of his own out and lighting up right outside the gas station.

“Ready to kick some more ass you mean? Hell yeah. I’ve got my tiara and I’ve got my prince. And if anyone tries to remind me of Bert, I can smack them with my scepter.” 

Speaking of Bert just then, Frank felt the urge to pry just a little bit into whatever the nature of their relationship had been. They’d begun to walk back in a somewhat comfortable silence, the gaps getting filled by whatever little bit of trivia popped into Gerard’s head about Warhammer (of all things), but Frank couldn’t help but zone out and try to put the pieces together just a bit. Gerard had been super about the whole thing, getting him a shirt, his tiara, and being such a rad support system even when the needles came out, but he’d kept suspiciously quiet about why Bert tried to hit him even after they’d supposedly made up. Gerard wasn’t exactly a mastermind, but he was clever. And private, when he wanted to be. It wasn’t like he could get the information out of Bert himself, not that he wanted to approach him any time soon (at least not until the end of the tour, like he promised himself he would), so he figured he’d have to suck it up and ask.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly through his mouth to calm his nerves. He might learn something he would have rather had been ignorant about, but it was for a good cause. For his comic book and movie franchise, for their white picket fence and numerous dogs, and for the crown. Or whatever it was princes and princesses had, he didn’t really care about the details other than daydreaming about Gerard in nothing but a crown. 

“Hey, so...uh...” He nervously mumbled, tugging on Gerard’s sleeve to get his attention, “What’s going on with you and Bert?”

Gerard visibly tensed, eyes darting from Frank’s face to everywhere else, and sighed. “Yeah...yeah, okay, you took a hit for me, so the least I could do is tell you.”

Gerard grabbed his hand briefly, leading him to the side. He kicked at the ground a little, Frank’s mind already buzzing with questions and assumptions of all sorts and types. 

“Bert was my first...”

“Uh-Huh...?”

“He, uh...he knew, that’s all okay, but, uh...I didn’t exactly have feelings for him. He didn’t know that part.”

No feelings then. Huh. This was an odd turn of events. Not that Frank was someone to judge, I mean, everyone at some point fooled around without feelings. Frank totally did. He was a hardass. Frank totally didn’t cry that one time he didn’t get called back. Frank also did not stuff his face with nachos for a week after that, and he did not, absolutely not, do the same thing for a little bit once he met Gerard and promptly attached himself to him like a duckling imprinting on its mother. Not at all. 

“Alright, that’s...that’s okay, Gee,” He said, trying his best to keep his feelings under the table, “Did he find out?”

“Oh, he did. He found out and in the worst possible way. We made up, but obviously he was still feeling a little...hurt by it.”

“Gerard...what did you do?” Frank asked, unbelievably curious.

“I said someone else’s name.”

Frank’s mouth dropped. He tried to find the words but, clearly, his brain had short fused and left him with the language skills of a toddler, occasional ‘hum’s and ‘wha-‘s coming out. Gerard blushed a deep crimson but bravely faced his friend, standing by his horrible mistake and powering through, while Frank couldn’t believe what was going on right now, because, what? The fuck? 

“So, you didn’t ever like Bert?” He asked incredulously.

“Nope.”

“Why did you hook up with him?!”

“I didn’t think I had a chance with...you know what? It’s not important, you wanted to know and that’s why he tried to hit me. And I deserve it, really.”

“No, hold the phone, hold on, back it up, you don’t deserve to get hit, you’re the good guy! I’m the bastard, I’m the one who gets punched while you help, and then the cycle starts all over again! That’s our dynamic! That, that was just a little mistake, it can happen to anyone!”

“Even to you?”

“Pfft, of course to me! It’s happened loads of times!”

“Like when?”

“Like...well, I mean...there was...one time...”

“Oh, fuck, you’ve never done it before, have you? You’re just lying to make me feel better! You can’t tell anyone, Frankie, I’m dead serious, I’m so ashamed of this and everyone thinks Bert is the bad guy, and he was so gentle and everything and-“

“Spare me the details!” Frank yelled, hands up to his face and ready to cover his ears, “okay, will it make you feel better if I confess something myself?”

Gerard’s face suddenly changed from extreme distraught to a little smirk. “You have a secret?” He asked, the little smirk turning into a grin.

“You ready to hear what might just about destroy my reputation?” 

“Always.”

“Wh-what do you mean, always?!” Frank looked offended, pressing a hand to his chest. He pushed his hair back and took another breath, making it look extremely dramatic. He paused for suspense, but Gerard started to shake his shoulders to hurry him up.

“I don’t have as much sex as I say I do.”

Gerard deadpanned, “We all knew that.”

“Excuse me? How? Over the years, I’ve entertained you with many sexcapades, there’s no way.”

“Mikey found the website you’ve been stealing the stories from a month after we met you, we just didn’t want you to feel bad so we let you keep telling us.”

“...Okay, well that’s just gaslighting right there, I can’t believe you two! You’re just as bad as each other, sneaking around and-and-“

“Oh, but you can lie to us? Come on! ‘I made her cum three times in a row, she worshipped my dick and ate it like it was the Eucharist and I was the priest giving it to her’, you stutter the second anyone else even talks about jacking off. You’re soft, Frank.”

“Alright, fine... I’ve been found out,” Frank muttered angrily, scowling at the floor. So they always knew? What, did they also knew he cried after sex sometimes? Because if so, that is a completely normal response to a very emotional act, alright. Maybe he wasn’t such a hardass! Was it so bad? Was it so bad he’d never had a one night stand or fooled around for the sake of fooling around? It wasn’t like he couldn’t get any, he was smoking hot and full of tattoos. He was a dreamboat, he just...maybe liked cuddling a lot and would prefer to form a connection. Just a little bit.

Frank, for the first time, blushed and let Gerard see it without trying to hide by looking away, smoking or rubbing his nose. Gerard poked his nose then, giggling when Frank failed to move his hand away. 

  
“It’s okay, y’know,” he said to Frank, shrugging, “We don’t have to have set roles. Now I get to be the whore and you get to be the sweet one.”

That entire sentence made Frank’s brain run at a thousand miles per hour and it definitely showed, getting another giggle from Gerard. Frank rolled his eyes. This was so absolutely unexpected that all he could do was just...laugh. Alright. So Bert had never stolen Gerard away from him, they were just friends with benefits, for lack of a better term, and Gerard sort of fucked up. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt then, having demonized Bert so much when he was just as heartachy as Frank was over Gerard. Huh. Who’d have guessed?

“So, if it’s not Bert you like...then who is it?” Frank asked. There was still someone out there that actually had a chance of stealing Gerard away from him and he had to know. His plan needed a whole rethinking then and he needed to know who was going to be on the end of his fists so he could make sure to have the right guy this time.

“I’m not ready to tell you,” Gerard said, smiling, “I might be, if you strike a deal with me.”

“Oh, a deal? You make it sound like I’m gonna have to sign my soul away or something, hahah, wouldn’t that be...bad...” Frank tried his best not to lose his focus on another daydream, one where movies and comics and princes and princesses didn’t exist, but instead maybe chains and...other, dirty type things people did that Frank would never publicly admit to thinking about. Well, for now, anyway, maybe in the future.

“If share your crush, I’ll share mine. Tit for tat.”

Okay, so maybe telling Gerard about his secret sexual desires didn’t seem like such a bad thing after all. 

“Sounds fair,” Frank said, forcing a smile “Then get ready to have your mind blown, ‘cuz it’s...really something.”

“Tonight then? After we finish up and get on the road again?”

“If we can find some alone time, yeah.”

“Alone time...” Gerard mumbled, keeping his eyes on Frank. Frank suddenly felt like he was under a microscope and fidgeted nervously. “You can count on it. Let’s get going before they skip us over, yeah?”

“Yeah, and before Ray acts out his ultimate revenge and leaves us stranded instead.”

“He’s not a bad guy, he wouldn’t do that...” Gerard said, turning his walk into a small jog alongside Frank, “...would he?”

Frank shrugged, “Guy has resentment, I wouldn’t blame him.”

The two suddenly, without another word, picked the pace up and jogged faster, thoughts of an angry, afroed man driving away and claiming My Chemical Romance all to himself haunting them all the way to Warped. 


	5. Frank and How He Just Blurted It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was planning on waiting a lot longer before updating but honestly this whole virus thing is keeping people at home so I hope this puts a smile on your face while you're self qurantined or actually quarantined. Stay safe, wash your hands, read frerard, learn some new skills and bunk in. Wish you, your families, your loved ones, everyone a nice time at home.

“So, uh, how much longer do you need me to hold this for you?”

Frank death gripped the metal sides of the trash can and shoved his face in as far as he could without letting his feet hang over the edge. He spit the rest of the contents from his mouth into it, but his tongue still tasted like puke. 

“Just give me five minutes, for crying out loud...you can text with one free hand, can’t you?”

Mikey shrugged, leaning against the wall beside Frank and waiting for him to finish emptying whatever he had in his stomach. The show had gone tremendous, fantastic, incredible, save for the sudden bout of nausea that hit Frank the second he realized, shit, the show’s over and he only had a few hours to either plan a mass escape, make up an incredibly convincing lie, or just straight up die. So, like any normal person, instead of having a drink of water and taking a time out, he dragged Mikey by the sleeve with all the force he could muster to the nearest trash can, handed him his tiara, and proceeded to throw up everything he had ingested. 

He did manage to shove it all to the back of his head once his hands were on his guitar and that first note hit, going into a trance of chaos and headbanging and losing himself in the music, but the nerves hit him right where it hurt and they were currently holding him hostage. It was so stupid. It was just...alone time. With Gerard. Him confessing his love for some asshole that was going to rue the day he was born, and Frank..., well, Frank...

He heaved, not even able to finish that thought before his stomach started contracting again. Crap. How was he supposed to get through this? How?

“It’s been five minutes.”

“Oh, shut up, I’m going through something here!”

“No, you’re not,” Mikey mumbled, putting his phone away and rubbing his face, “You’re just lovesick over my brother.”

“I am not!” Frank lifted his head up and sent a glare towards Mikey, who offered him a bottle of water. He pocketed a bit inside his cheeks and swirled it around before spitting it back out into the bin. His mouth still tasted so gross. “I’m just a little under the weather, that’s all...”

“Pfft, under the weather. You mean dying to get under Gerard.”

“Would you quit it?!”

“Frank. I know.”

The sudden drop in Mikey’s tone of voice made Frank freeze for a moment, but he quickly recovered and scoffed. He doesn’t know. He has no clue what happens outside of his weird Mikey bubble, what does he think he know? Huh? Frank would totally fight him on it, the weird skinny little thing won’t stand a chance against his Iero might.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have feelings for anyone,” Frank insisted, stomping up to Mikey and daring him, “I’m just sick. I get sick a lot.”

“Okay, fine,” Mikey shrugged again, handing him his tiara, “Have it your way. Mister Frank Iero, badass of the hour, white knighting damsels in distress. Here’s the thing, see, I know about tonight.”

Oh no.

“Gerard told me about it. He’s hoping it’ll make you stop acting so weird around him, because, wouldn’t you know it, he’s noticed it too. And wants it to stop.”

“Oh, please, I haven’t been acting weird at all, and what does all of this have to do with me <i>apparently</i> having feelings for your brother?”

Mikey threw his hands up in the air and looked at Frank as if he’d out of nowhere grown a second head, “Uhm, hello?! Earth to Frankie? You’ve been acting like a lap dog every time you’re around him, you steal my phone to try and get in touch with Pete, which, by the way, I want to kick your ass for-“

“As if you could.”

“-And, newsflash, you’re throwing up because you’re nervous. Just admit it so we can all go back to normal, please?”

Frank crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Mikey was right. He had been acting completely different for ages now, using every second of every day to fawn over Gerard and trying to wrap him up all because he was crushing like mad. He felt a little ashamed then, looking at Mikey’s annoyed face. Not that he could beat him up, Bert got a lucky shot and that’s what he’s going to tell everyone who asked, but he did go as far as stealing his phone, and that was really uncalled for. Now, everything had messed him up so bad he was having a lot of trouble keeping anything down. Shit. 

“What makes you think we’ll all go back to normal?” Frank asked, sucking on his lip ring. That’s the closest Mikey was going to get out of him and he better appreciate it.

“We will. Because no matter what he tells you tonight, he cares about you a lot, Frankie.”

“So you don’t know who it is?”

Mikey shook his head sideways, “No. Really, I don’t. I just heard about the name thing right before we went on, as far as I knew he liked Bert.”

Frank nodded, feeling a little bummed then. He wasn’t about to fish more information out of Mikey, despite how badly he wanted to because a little part of him believed Gerard actually did tell him, because he also felt bummed. Somehow he was just now realizing that through the entire ordeal, he’d forgotten the rest of the group. His absolute best friends, his partners in crime. Guys he’d shared uncomfortable road trips with, hotel rooms, and an awkward shower that one time (Ray somehow got away with hardly touching his hair to make it look so majestic), and he’d traded it all to infatuate over Gerard. Not that it hasn’t been fun, daydreaming about all sorts of possible scenarios, but...yeah. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a weirdo,” Frank said, still sucking on his lip ring, “I just...”

“You’re horrible at this, you know.”

Frank playfully punched Mikey on the shoulder, who grinned. He felt a little better now that Mikey knew and he could at the very least lean on him and trust him. Not too much, the man was notorious for sharing secrets and he didn’t really want Gerard aware of how many times a day he lost his mind over his eyes, or his mouth, or his smile, or pretty much anything that was attached to him in one way or another, but still. It was nice.

So, one friendship somewhat repaired and his stomach finally settled down enough that he could leave the trash can in peace, Frank finally placed the tiara back on his head. Mikey hummed and adjusted it slightly, mumbling something about how you’re not supposed to wear it like a diadem, and Frank stared at him wide-eyed until he pulled his phone out and went off on his way texting without another word. 

So, Mikey knew. This meant that Pete knew, which...well, wasn’t really a bad thing, considering he was the person Frank planned on talking to in the first place. As he walked back, he considered still going through with it before he tossed the thought away. Pete would have been a great help if it was still Bert, but this mystery person floating in limbo didn’t give him much to go on. 

For all he knew, it could be anyone. There were so many bands touring in Warped, coming in and out from different states and towns that Frank never bothered keeping track of. Some even dropping into the bands list out of nowhere and dropping right back out. If Gerard wanted to get with somebody, but he thought he couldn’t, then it could be someone in one of those bands. 

But, then again...Gerard was peculiar about his crushes. Frank remembered a time he liked someone that it took him a while to even develop feelings, let alone any kind of interest, and spent ages explaining that ‘there had to be a connection’, which Frank later insisted he was being a hopeless romantic and they promptly continued watching their movie. So, that narrowed it down to... quite a few people, still. Gerard was friendly and sweet and, ugh, seemed to pick up friends rather quickly compared to Frank, so he still had too many guesses and didn’t know where to start. 

He spotted a techie waving him down once he was close enough to the grounds and headed their way. He suddenly had the thought that maybe it was one of them, like Ray or Bob, and chuckled to himself thinking how silly that would be. 

Then again...

Frank stopped dead in his tracks. What if he did have feelings for one of them? They were close, and maybe he was also scared of ruining their friendship. What if... oh, god, what if it was Ray? Ray had gone out there to smooth things over, Frank remembered how he felt when the three of them were just outside and talking it all over, maybe Ray had his own masterminded plan to get into Gerard’s pants and steal him away and...and THEN take My Chemical Romance all to himself? No, stop. That was crazy. That was so absolutely crazy that he actually laughed out loud to himself, definitely startling the poor man that was patiently waiting for him to catch up and retrieve his forgotten guitar. Already in its protective bag, Frank slipped it over himself and made sure it was secured onto his back.

Ray would never. It was insane. But just in case, he quickly thanked the techie for taking care of his girl and ran off to find Ray, just to make sure his paranoia was unfounded. He needed to knock down all possibilities fast, time was running out and the sun would start to set really soon. And he’d still not thought of a good enough lie. Fuck.

At the very least, finding Ray wasn’t too complicated. He’d been chatting up a few sound engineers and blabbing on and on about whatever it was that he was into at the moment, so Frank tugged on his arm and flashed him the biggest, charming smile he had. Ray raised an eyebrow at him and excused himself, sighing.

“What do you want?” He asked, looking slightly annoyed already.

“Nothing, I’m just wondering how you’re doing, and how, uh...y’know, how life is going?”

“How life is going?” Ray had a strange look on his face, “You suddenly out of nowhere want to know how my life is going?”

“Of course! We’re buddies, we even showered together that one time, we’re close, right?”

Ray pushed Frank away from the group by the shoulders then, visibly cringing when he mentioned the shower bit. Now a good distance away, he sighed deeply, and turned back to Frank.

“Listen, I was really hoping you wouldn’t put me in this position, but you have so I’m just gonna come out and say it. I’m not telling you jack shit. You’ll have to wait until tonight.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Frank furrowed his eyebrows at Ray, feeling like he’d had the rug pulled off his feet out of nowhere. What was he going on about?

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, I’m not telling you who Gerard has feelings for. There’s nothing you can offer me.”

“Wait, you know? You know who Gerard likes? For real?” All of a sudden Frank felt extremely giddy until he realized his sheer panic at the thought that if Ray actually did want to get into Gerard’s pants then he had a leg up on him, which mean the was able to plan ahead, which also meant he already had his own plan in motion while Frank had absolutely none, which then meant that he was winning. And Frank was no loser. If Ray wanted a piece of that it would have to be over Frank’s dead body. Tomorrow, the dibs would be officialized and he would announce it to everyone in their next show as well to ensure that Gerard was his. 

“Yeah, I know... I thought you knew that I knew,” Ray said, looking like he regretted mentioning anything at all.

“No, I didn’t know that you knew, why did you think I knew that you knew? Is there something else you know that I don’t know?”

“Shut up, Christ, I’m getting a headache. I thought it was because of tonight.”

“Wha- tonight? How do you know about tonight?”

“Oh, easy, Mikey texted the group chat.”

“There’s a group chat and you guys didn’t invite me? Un-fucking-believable, I am so hurt right now. My feelings are hurt, Toro.”

“I’m...sorry? I guess? Mikey just did his thing, I had no clue nobody told you.”

“Yeah, well, the least you can do now is ease my pain by telling me who Gerard likes, and-wait, wait, come back, for fucks sake! Alright, fine, I won’t ask if you’re gonna be like that.”

Frank puffed up his cheeks. He didn’t really care about the group chat, in all honesty, he saw them enough during the day and they could gossip and chatter on like hens in secret as much as they wanted. He was sure neither one of them had any cool stories to share anyway. But what bothered him the most was that Ray was standing there, clearly all-knowing and powerful, and was making Frank wait. Why? Why is the world so cruel? He has so much love to give and wants to shove it all into Gerard’s beautiful face, but the entire planet continues to conspire against his one true love. His mother used to say that if it was meant to be then it wouldn’t come easily, but this was ridiculous. In front of him, Ray smiled and squeezed his shoulder slightly.

“Don’t worry yourself so much,” he said, sounding ever so reassuring and kind, “Just chill. It’s better if you hear it from him, trust me on this one. I know you’re all...jumpy and shit, and worried, but I’ll tell you one thing. They’re amazing and are just as worried about him as all of us. Couldn’t have picked a better person for him myself.”

“Ugh, that just makes me feel worse like he might end up in some kind of trouble because this jackass has successfully fooled even you.”

Ray grinned, amused at Frank’s behavior, “God, you’re fucking insane. How have you gone this far without therapy?”

“This band is kind of my therapy,” Frank admitted, grinning back.

“Right. Who do you like, anyway?”

“Ahahahh, that’s not your business, sorry. But, if it’s any reassurance, they’re also amazing.”

Ray groaned loudly, but there wasn’t any real irritation in his eyes anymore. Maybe a little bit of annoyance, but that was always the case when Frank was around and up to whatever shenanigans he had planned up. Frank’s paranoia went away, leaving him feeling absolutely ridiculous for considering it at all in the first place, and left Ray to get back to his friends. He felt more sure of himself then, despite still having that mystery person looming over him like a nasty cloud, but talking to Ray worked wonders on him. 

He really was lucky to have found such incredible guys to surround himself with, and to be practically glued to for so long. Sure, there hadn’t been any parties or crazy, wild nights other than the ones he stayed up freaking out about his feelings, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He secretly couldn’t be bothered to go to those things anyway, he’d much rather find a rooftop on an abandoned building to chill, listen to music, maybe have some company to share the moment with.

He spotted Gerard getting caught up in a conversation with two women, helping them pack their equipment. His heart beat a little faster and he smiled. It looked like he was really into it, getting excited and talking fast like he tended to do when he talked about the things he loved, and just watching him be himself made Frank all warm, fuzzy, and just thrilled to know him. There was a huge chance, if not 100%, that Gerard was going to say its some random dude nobody’s heard much of, talk about them for a while and ask him for his support. And for him to give him that, Frank needed to get his head in order and stop letting the General boss him around. Gerard needed him. Hell, they all needed him. 

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, grabbing the last one in the box and holed it in place with his lips. Cupping the end so the lighter’s flame wouldn’t be put out prematurely, he breathed in and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Gerard looked like he’d finished up then, giving the girls a big goodbye hug and waving them off as they hopped on their van and drove off. The sun was nearly set and everyone was almost through getting their things organized and shut, ready to head off into the night and drive to their next destination. 

“Hey, Frankie!”

Frank turned towards the sound of his name and found Bob waving at him to get his attention. He tucked away his lighter and walked to him, still occasionally glancing at Gerard. 

“What’s up?” 

“Here,” Bob smacked his forehead with a piece of paper. Frank grabbed it and tried to read it, but it may as well have been an alphabet and language of his own making because he couldn’t make out a single word. Bob turned the paper around for him. 

“It’s an address.”

“Okay?” Frank questioned, confused. 

“You seriously can’t read my handwriting? It’s cursive, didn’t they teach you cursive?”

“That’s cursive? Fuck me, you need practice. What’s it an address for?”

“It’s our next stop. Gerard said you two were driving up together yourselves in Kitty’s car, and he asked me for that. Figured you can play courier.”

Frank ears must have magical powers because everything he’d said right after ‘driving up together’ turned into a blur and he stared at Bob with a blank face. Driving together. Alone. For hours on end, with nothing but each other. He felt nausea creep up again, anxiety clutching at his chest and making him feel a little breathless. This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening. When he said alone, he was thinking Gerard had meant they’d go fill up the tank when they had to make a pit stop, confess, then just go back to their usual tour bus bullshit. Not BE with each other for AGES. How was he supposed to manage that? 

Oh god, he could see it already. Gerard would tell him, get all giddy and excited, then it would be Frank’s turn, and he would confess because he couldn’t think of anything else to say because he was a romantic moron, for fuck's sake. And it would get awkward, with nowhere to run or hide, then their friendship would be in ruins, the band would split for sure, and he’d have to beg Ray to let him live with him for a while because he REFUSES to go back home and mourn this alone, fuck no, and then-

“Frank? Are you on something? Your eyes are...really wide right now...” Bob waved his hand in front of Frank’s face very slowly, but it wasn’t until he poked him between the eyes that he got a reaction. Frank mumbled a thank you and turned on his heel, desperately trying to spot the trash can that had been such a kind friend to him earlier. He should have been happy, to have so much time one on one with Gerard. This would have been a huge blessing if it wasn’t for the fact that he had agreed to confess to Gerard how he felt and he couldn’t bring himself to lie, not to his face. 

Things were going to go wrong. Unless he somehow actually did burst into flames and die on the spot, he was going to get in that car, open his big fat mouth, and everything would be ruined. No more My Chem. 

He reached into every pocket he had on his clothes, trying to find his lighter, and cursed loudly when he realized he didn’t have any cigarettes left at all. Great. The one thing that could have at the very least relaxed him by .05% he had just run out of. How was he supposed to face Gerard like this? All sweaty and twitchy and, fuck, he’s coming this way.

Frank plastered on a fake smile for him and decided to meet him halfway, swallowing down the spit that had accumulated in his mouth and mentally begging his stomach to chill the fuck out before he beat it up. Gerard smiled at him, looking a bit nervous himself. Before he had the chance to say anything, Frank handed him the note Bob had left him. He quickly scanned it, somehow reading the handwriting on his first try, and tucked it away in his pants pocket. 

“I didn’t realize you planned on getting a car for our, uh, alone time,” Frank said, chewing the inside of his cheek to shreds. He thanked his body for not stuttering any of the words, while Gerard just kept on smiling at him.

“Yeah, it was kind of last minute. I caught up with the guys from MSI. They’re really cool! I got to talking with Kitty and Lyndsey, and they were tired of taking turns driving it down, so I offered to give them a break. You’d like them.”

“Hah, sweet. So, uh, I guess we’re gonna have all the time in the world now. No interruptions, just two guys and the road, and shitty radio music...”

“Actually, the radio’s bust so we’ll have to fill in the silence.”

Frank internally gagged, the anxiety gripping him harder. That was just tremendous. Just awkward, lonely, silence, no filler music to try and make it easier. Just quiet. Great. Gerard handed him one of his cigarettes and he quickly lit it up, breathing in that precious nicotine he had been lacking. He moved his eyes away from him, trying to calm himself down in any way possible, but the thought of having nowhere to go but to face Gerard in that car was making him slightly hyperventilate and very much claustrophobic. In between his panicked breaths, he did glance at Gerard and found he looked very nervous. He wiggled his fingers and tapped his foot on the ground continuously, blowing his own smoke out of the corner of his mouth and staring at the ground. 

Frank couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t. If he didn’t do something then, anything at all, he would throw up on the spot. He desperately wanted to run, but now knowing Gerard was upset and maybe really did need his support very badly over his own love affairs kept him cemented on the ground. Not that it made anything better, he was still an absolute disaster waiting to happen and it just. He couldn’t. He needed to put an end to it, before he got in that car, before they were together in an awkward silence with nowhere to run and before everything was completely and utterly destroyed.

“So,“ Gerard tossed the keys up in the air and caught them again in the same hand, “We have a long way to go, but we can stop for some fast food before we hit the highway.” He crushed the cigarette butt with his heel, and looked at Frank expectantly, who did the same and tucked his hands in his pockets. Gerard gestured the direction they needed to walk to with his head and went off, Frank matching his pace right beside him.

“Listen...” he said, making Frank tense up. This was it. The moment was coming, the anxiety coming up to grip at his throat now. “I know I said you needed to tell me, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, Frank. I’m just...”

“Worried?” Frank interrupted.

“Yeah, I’m worried that whatever’s caught your eye will pull you away. You’ve been weird and distant, and I know me going off with Bert made it a lot worse, but I at least need to know you’re okay.”

They reached the car, after what seemed like the longest walk in Frank’s life. Gerard jogged over to the driver’s seat, sticking the key in the door and opening it. He sat in and leaned across the passenger’s seat to open the door from the inside. Frank stood still, heart pounding in his ears. He met Gerard’s eyes and just couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“We’re going to meet the guys tomorrow at a pit stop, so if you’re missing anything we can just pick it up then, an-“

“It’s you. Gee, it’s you.”


End file.
